Dis-armed
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: During the Third War, Uther had declared that what the Alliance had faced at Hearthglen was only the beginning. But in the aftermath of the battle, some knew the truth. Lordaeron didn't face the beginning. It faced the end.


**Dis-armed**

It had been Eddard's first battle, and quite nearly his last. Right now, sitting at the barricade of Hearthglen's north gate, he wondered if he'd live to see another one.

It used to be easy, he reflected. His brother had fought in the Second War, and had never been the same even years later. Years of screaming, pissing the bed, and taking it out on his wife and daughter, before he'd ended his life with a rope and branch, alleviating the misery of the living while also adding to it. These days however, he wasn't sure if that was going to work. Because he'd seen the shambling corpses that had besieged Hearthglen last night, and a few of them had necks in very unnatural positions, before a sword was rammed through their brain, or an axe separated the head from the body. When Egan had ended his life, he'd done it in the belief that he wouldn't be coming back. If he did the same, he couldn't be sure that he'd be given such mercy.

He shivered as he sat by the fire, his sword and shield propped against one of the barricades. He'd lost his helmet during the battle, and hadn't made the effort to retrieve it. In fact, since the battle had been won, and the banner of the Silver Hand planted in the town square, he hadn't really done much of anything. Just sit here by a fire that provided no warmth, waiting for a sergeant, a knight, or heck, anyone, to give him something to do besides sit and reflect. Hoping that he could get to doing, rather than engage in the nightmare of reflecting.

"Thirsty?"

But such commands hadn't happened yet. And as much as he'd have liked to think otherwise, drinking wasn't a job. Not even drinking from a waterskin that Joshua handed in front of him. A task which he promptly commenced by taking a swig from it, before handing it back to his fellow footman.

"Needed that," Eddard murmured.

"Yeah, I kind of needed it as well." He gave Eddard's leg a little kick. "The hell you been?"

"Sergeant Sykes put me on watch duty."

Joshua grunted. "Course he did."

"You can ask him if you like."

"Sure. If I can find his head and attach it to his body, I'll get right on that." Joshua took a seat beside him and took off his helmet. "Light, that fire's cold."

"Really? I find it kind of warm."

"You do?" Joshua asked.

Eddard glanced at the fire and glared. "No."

The two men sat in silence. What Joshua was thinking, Eddard couldn't say. But if he was thinking anywhere along the same lines as he was, his mind would be lingering on the battle against the undead. The Scourge, as some called it, though what the shambling corpses called themselves (if anything) was anyone's guess. Perhaps, Eddard reflected, he was thinking of the moment when their own people attacked them, turned into zombies through some unknown means. Perhaps he was thinking of Prince Arthas, who'd rallied the townsfolk at every juncture, before gallivanting into the unknown. Perhaps he was thinking of that same prince, returned from destroying a Scourge shipment, not knowing that as he told Captain Lavail of the desolation of the northern villages, a certain footman was listening in. Perhaps he was even thinking when all seemed doomed, when a never-ending tide of dead besieged the village, before at the eleventh hour, the Knights of the Silver Hand had come riding in to save the day, leaving Hearthglen a broken town with scores of broken bodies scattered around it, all destined for a pyre.

Or perhaps he was thinking of none of that, Eddard reflected. Perhaps, he thought, as he watched Joshua sip from the waterskin, he was trying not to think at all. His brother had tried that for awhile, hitting the drink when he wasn't hitting his family. For awhile, it had worked.

"Any idea on where the cavalry actually went?" Joshua asked.

"I'm sorry?"

He put the flask back at his belt and looked at Eddard. "The knights. Prince Arthas. Sir Uther. They've disappeared."

"Hardly doubted they disappeared. The spell required for that would be..." Eddard trailed off, realizing Joshua's meaning. "No. I mean, I heard things. Heading northward, Stratholme, something about cutting off the snake's head…" He glanced back to the south. At Hearthglen, and the few who remained living in the town, and the even fewer that remained to defend it. "Just know they're not here."

Joshua said nothing, and for a moment, the only sound was that of a crackling fire. As little warmth as it gave, it was at least free of the smell of burning flesh.

Joshua got to his feet and drew his sword. Eddard looked up at him. "What?" he asked.

"Something's out there."

Eddard sighed. "You're imagining things."

Joshua didn't respond. He just took a few steps forward, beyond the barricades, and to the north road that linked Hearthglen with Woodlyke. Or rather what was left of Woodlyke, since it had been one of the villages overrun by the Scourge, from what he'd overheard from the prince.

"Joshua, get down here."

His fellow footman said nothing. Sighing, Eddard got to his feet as well, along with picking up his own sword.

_It can't be them. Please let it not be them._

"There's nothing here," Eddard said.

Joshua looked at him "Ever find that strange?"

"Excuse me?"

"When was the last time you heard a bird? Or a wolf? Or anything?"

"I..." Eddard trailed off. To the north, through the early morning mists, were trees, and the road, and more trees. It was summe, but over the last few months, it was as if this entire region had fallen silent. As if...

_Everything's dead?_

He didn't know. But as if fate had decided to answer the question, something emerged from the mists. Something that had once been some_one, _but was now beyond salvation. Something shambling towards both of them.

"Oh fuck me," Joshua whispered.

It was a woman. Probably in her late twenties, and given the bulge in her belly, heavily pregnant. Also covered in blood. None of which would be insurmountable if not for the fact that she was now among the ranks of the Scourge, scarce different from the thousands that had besieged Hearthglen earlier. A straggler, Eddard wondered? A scout? Or a recent victim of the plague? He grasped his sword with both hands and looked at Joshua.

"Well," he said. "Finders keepers."

Joshua looked at him. "Seriously?" he hissed.

"Can't take out a single zombie?" Eddard sneered.

Joshua fell silent, and Eddard understood why. The heat of battle was one thing. The intimacy of personal combat was another. It was why kings could direct entire armies across the continent with but a quill stroke, while it was people like his brother who had to pay the price in body and mind. But, he reflected, even the Horde had never gone so far. They'd raised the dead, yes, but never on this scale. And with rumours that the rebel orcs had sailed west for some forsaken destination...maybe even the orcs had had the right idea.

The zombie kept shambling towards them. Hissing, or breathing, it was hard to tell. Her right arm was outstretched, and he could see where the bone was jutting through the rotting flesh. Given that he saw the same wounds across her entire body, where clothing and flesh had been torn alike...the plague may have brought her back, but he doubted that it was what sent her into the ground.

"Eddard, do something," Joshua whispered.

Eddard glanced at him. "Stromgarde's fist, you've frozen," he whispered.

Joshua said nothing.

"Fine." He walked up to the shambling corpse and casually removed the woman's right arm with the stroke of his sword. "See? Disarmed."

Joshua didn't laugh. Eddard frowned, and not because the zombie lunged at him. He grabbed her by the neck as her left arm flailed uselessly against his armour, her rotting teeth biting at his neck. She was too far away, and even if she'd got close enough, those teeth couldn't possibly cut through the plate-mail that he wore.

"Oh help me Joshua, help me," Eddard said in a deadpan voice. He looked at his fellow soldier, who just stood there. Frozen. "Save me. Oh please."

Still no response. He gave the woman a shove, and before she could lunge again, he hacked off her left arm. Two arms were now on the ground between them. Which did nothing to stop the zombie from still trying to bite him. Lunging forward, even without any arms to grab him.

"Feel free to jump in Joshua," Eddard called out.

"Light's sake, just finish it."

"No. I need your help. She's too strong."

"The hell is wrong with you?!"

Eddard froze. He looked at his sword, seeing the dark red blood that coated it. All of the creature's blood, he reminded himself, for he'd cleaned it before heading to the north gate. He could have finished this in an instant, but had played the poor woman like a game. Why?

_You know why._

The zombie lunged.

_Same reason your brother did what he did._

The zombie hissed.

_Power. Much power as you could get when you knew you were powerless._

The zombie tried to bite him and he let out a yell, slashing his sword against the zombie's stomach. She made no reaction. But he did, as he stumbled back onto the dirt, as he saw the thing drop onto the ground amidst all the guts and grime. The small, grey skinned, mottled thing that was undoubtedly a...

He closed his eyes, as it was the only thing that prevented him from coughing up his own intestines. So he only heard the sound of steel entering flesh. He only heard the sound of a body falling atop the cold stone of the northern road. And for awhile, he only heard the sound of his own breathing before he opened his eyes and saw the two bodies on the ground before him. One with a hole between its eyes. The other...

"Need a hand?"

He accepted Joshua's offer and got up. He didn't want to look at the second body. He couldn't.

"Want more wine?"

Eddard grabbed the waterskin from his fellow's hand and gulped it down, finishing it. He wiped the liquid off his lips, trying not to think of blood. But as he turned his gaze northward, up the road, to the mists, imagining what lay beyond, he couldn't help it.

"It's the end of the world," he whispered.

Joshua put a hand on his shoulder. "Think you're getting ahead of yourself there. We-"

"The dead are rising. Summer's as cold as winter. Orcs, undead, demons, not to mention-"

"Eddard, enough." Joshua walked over to the bodies. "Come on. Let's get these to the pyres."

Eddard quickly grabbed the woman's legs. "I've got this one."

Joshua gave him a look, one that told Eddard that despite the extra weight, he was taking the easy option. Nevertheless, he remained silent, and earned silent thanks in return.

_End of the world, and some of us get to the fire early._

He tried not to look at anything as he dragged the body back to Hearthglen. He tried not to even _think_.

But the arms were still there.

And he saw them.


End file.
